And Then There Were No Hetalians
by Cherry Flavored Awesome
Summary: 10 Hetalians go to the mysterious Maria's Peak island, only to disappear, never heard from again...  T for relatively scary themes.
1. The first guest is introduced

**Alright, so before we get started, I would like to make a disclaimer on this story...**

**Axis Powers Hetalia solely belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. All characters were made by Himaruya, and are not in any sense mine.**

**And Then There Were None, otherwise known as Ten Little Indians, belongs to Dame Agatha Christie Mallowan, and copyrighted, 1939, 1940, and 1966.  
**

* * *

Once upon a time, there was an island. This island was a rather nice one, and the land was always being sold and bought by famous actors and actresses, or the wealthy that were high up on the scale of first class. This island became famous for its beautiful views and nice terrain. On this island was a large mansion-type house. This is where the parties were held, what with its large ballroom connected to a large dining room with a kitchen not too far from it.

Rumor had told that a wealthy couple had bought the island from the previous owner, and the were to hold a party. Only ten guests were to come, and nothing had been told about them, meaning anyone in the village could come, which had made all the buzz.

One of the many people who's eye this had caught was a man named Alfred F. Jones.

Alfred F. Jones sat in the corner of a small café. He chuckled as he read the newspaper, the gossip columns still ranting about the island. "Since 1774 this island's been stirring up gossip, eh?" He chuckled and put the paper down.

Alfred has been a man of justice, a police chief. He was respected by many, despite his childish behavior. He loved his job, and couldn't see himself doing anything else (other than being a superhero).

The blond man stood up, and paid his bill at the counter. He walked out and back to his home. He sat and watched TV until he heard the mailman go by. Hoisting himself off the couch, he made his short trek to the mailbox. The American was quite shocked to see that other than junk mail was a ornate letter. It was opened quickly, the envelope fluttering to the ground without a second thought.

_Dear Mr. Jones,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you are the first guest at our party. We expect you to be at Maria's Peak island at the Devon coast on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a tuxedo._

_Ever sincerely,_

_U. N. Owen_

Alfred rushed inside to pack his bags, never once thinking to what may happen on the trip.

* * *

**Alrighty then! There was the first chapter of And Then There Were No Hetalians!**

**And Then There Were None/Ten Little Indians is a GREAT book! A little on the scary side, but none the less a great book. I suggest you read it. And also, I just used the Devon Coast so the rhyme would go as according to plan.  
**

**Until next time!  
**


	2. The second guest is introduced

Wang Yao was quite tired. He was only 22, but he felt 62. It was quite expected, what with looking after lots of children all the time. It was a nice thing, to be able to take a week's break from the nanny service. Yao thought about the other nannies, wondering which one he was being replaced that week with.

Thinking of the nannies, he remembered all the gossip. This person killed his wife for her insurance money, what the government is doing about the economy, last night's Glee episode, LiLo's drug charges, this woman's pregnant with her 5th child, but the topic that had sprung up again was the island that all the rich and famous were buying. What was it again? Its name always slipped his mind. Something about a party going on there in the most recent gossip…

While thinking, he dozed off on his suede couch…

Wang was rudely awakened by the mail carrier. The damned man was talking animatedly about something on his phone, while shoving the mail in through the slot. Yao dragged himself off the couch when the mailman had went away. One particular letter caught the Chinese's eye.

The letter was carefully opened with a knife, and read carefully.

Dear Mr. Wang,

You are the second of ten guests to have been invited to our party at Maria's Peak island at the Devon's coast. You are expected to be at the island on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a dress.

Ever sincerely,

U. N. Owen

Yao scoffed. A dress? He tugged angrily at his ponytail. Although he really didn't want to, he knew it was impolite to dress against his host's wishes. He sighed and got his measurements. He might as well get a dress tailored. He hadn't worn a dress since Yong Soo- NO! Don't think of him! Not at all!

* * *

**Ok, so this chapter is shorter than the last, but when I finish the character introductions, they'll begin to get longer. I'll try no to make it too long. I once mad a chapter story, and it ended up 49 chapters long! Oh, jeez. **

**Just in case you're wondering, here's the character match-ups. (No, I'm not keeping who's who a secret for later chapters. I considered it, though.)**

**Lawrence John/Justice Wargrave - Alfred F. Jones (America)  
**

**Vera Claythorne (female) - Yao Wang (male) (China)  
**

**Phillip Lombard - Ivan Braginski (Russia)**

**Emily Brent (female) - Arthur Kirkland (male) (England)**

**General Macarthur - Ozbourne Walker (Australia) (Fan made Name)**

**Dr. Armstrong - Francis Bonnefoy (France)**

**Anthony/Tony Marston - Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo (Spain)**

**William Henry Blore - Romano/Lovino Vargas (S. Italy)**

**Thomas Rogers - Ludwig Weilschmidt (Germany)**

**Ethel Rogers (female) - Veneziano/Feliciano Vargas (N. Italy)  
**


	3. The third and fourth guests introduced

Dear Mr. Braginski,

We are pleased to inform you that you are the third chosen guest to be at our party. We expect you to be at Maria's Peak island at the Devon coast on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a tuxedo.

Ever sincerely,

U. N. Owen

Ivan Braginski was pleasantly surprised that he was invited to the island to stay. The letter could have bee a little bit more sincere. It wasn't hand-written, just a fill in the blank letter. None the less, he was invited to stay at the famous Maria's Peak for a formal party.

Ivan was quite happy. He was never invited to parties often. Maybe sometimes he would be invited, but people feared him. Rumor held that he was the reason his immediate family disappeared.

The 25th… that was tomorrow. Way to send a late letter. Might as well pack up now. He figured that he would arrive early morning, because no time was given.

Ivan chuckled and took out a pair of keys from their hiding place. He sauntered over to a locked cabinet, selected a key, and unlocked it. Inside the cabinet was a revolver, and a pack or three of ammo. Taking a revolver for self-defense to a party wasn't a bad thing, right?, the Russian thought. The revolver and ammo pack was tucked away in a fold of the suitcase.

No one would criticize him for the revolver, it was all self-defense, he reminded himself. There really was no reason for self-defense, the Russian was quite intimidating as he was.

Little did he know, this would serve him no purpose in a mere 96 hours.

* * *

Arthur Kirkland stared at the letter he held in his hands.

Dear Mr. Kirkland,

We are pleased to inform you that you are the fourth guest to be at our party. We expect you to be at Maria's Peak island at the Devon coast on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a dress.

Ever sincerely,

U. N. Owen

A dress? He was a British gentleman! Why… well, if he was a gentleman, he might as well have a dress tailored for him. It was very un-gentleman-like to disregard his host's request. He once knew a woman, Elizaveta, who would make a letter such as this.

Elizaveta… a distant memory nowadays. He remembered the night… Oh, never mind that!

Maria's Peak island. He'd always wanted to go, though he never bothered to attempt to save money to buy it when he had the chance. He wished he had, it was priced at an all-time low! How convenient it would have been if he had. He, of course would have kept it. There was almost no reason why the rich were buying it and selling it like it was a child's toy!

Enough of that, it was high time he packed. After that, he would have some tea, he thought setting the kettle on the stove.

In a few day's time, he would figure out why they all sold the mysterious island…

* * *

**I think I should be introducing characters two at a time so the introductions can be over and done with. This'll also shorten the story.**

**I'm desperate for reviews...  
**


	4. The rest of the guests are here

_Dear Mr. Walker,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you are the fifth guest at our party. We expect you to be at Maria's Peak island at the Devon coast on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a tuxedo._

_Ever sincerely,_

_U. N. Owen_

Ozbourne raised an eyebrow. Maria's Peak, huh? He'd been to islands before. Nothing but trees, sand, and jungle people. An island, many, many miles off of Australia, and an ancient civilization was where he met his former wife. The poor lass died long ago. The reason why he has no children, too. The only one was a stillborn.

Never mind her, the pain was too great. He stood up to pack his bags. He guessed his office paperwork could wait. He'd just show them the invitation at work, they'd let him go. Nothing important was staged until another 2 months.

He left the door, not knowing this would be the last time he walked to work.

* * *

Dr. Francis Bonnefoy stared at the patient's symptoms on the white sheet. It wasn't making any sense. It was either he had the rare Ebola virus, or the Bubonic plague. The patient looked fine, too. Faking for attention, or a reason to get off of work. "Not happening." He wrote down 'faking' somewhere on the paper. He gave it to a secretary, who had to stifle a laugh. That secretary, always laughing whenever he wrote faking on a paper. It just didn't make sense.

Francis checked out, and ran a hand through his blonde waves. It had been a long day. Too long.

He noticed his mail on the table when he got home. One particular letter stood out amongst them all. It read:

_Dear Mr. Bonnefoy,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you are the sixth guest at our party. We expect you to be at Maria's Peak island at the Devon coast on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a tuxedo._

_Ever sincerely,_

_U. N. Owen_

Ah, so that's what it was! A fancy invitation to this… island. Ah! This was the island in the rumors! And he was one of the lucky guests!

He couldn't wait to get there. Maybe, since it was a private party, there would be… rather nice women there. He'd been to parties and clubs before. But this… must be something different.

He would be able to re-marry. His dearly beloved, his very own "wife" had left him after a tragic accident at his practice. Accusations came from his dear Vash's mouth. "You dirty frog! You… you did this on purpose! I'd ought to shoot you!" He left in tears, and it tore his heart to bits. Vash had hung himself later on. Francis was never the same.

He had thought he could never live without his dear Swiss, but this party would be able to take his mind away from him. Ah, bliss.

He hurried off to pack, and the strangest thought of joining his dearly beloved entered his mind. He paid no mind to it, though it came true in the next day or so…

* * *

Antonio laughed as he went faster and faster in his nice Ferrari. How jealous would Gilbert be now?

Gilbert was quite the fond memory for him. Ah, how he missed him. None the less, he stayed happy, just for him. The red car stopped at his house, but only for the mail. He just felt he should get it.

What a surprise, when he felt that he needed to check the mail, there was an important letter!

Dear Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo,

We are pleased to inform you that you are the seventh guest at our party. We expect you to be at Maria's Peak island at the Devon coast on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a tuxedo.

Ever sincerely,

U. N. Owen

Hooray! Party! And one of the most gossiped about ones, too! He laughed some more. He couldn't be happier. A great car he'd just bought a few months ago, an invitation to a great party, what next? Every curl on his head seemed to be curlier to smile with him.

He rushed inside, forgetting his car was on, and packed up. This would be the last time he'd ever see his beloved spaniel again.

* * *

Lovino Vargas carefully sketched a picture of a woman in a field. Her back was turned to the viewer, but you could tell her serenity, the euphoria she felt. Yes, he was a wonderful artist, and he was close to fame, he could taste it. This would be the drawing that got his name in museums around the world, he constantly told himself. They might as well be in museums, the last one sold for $4K. Deep inside, he knew they should be worth more than $4,000 to be in museums, but that didn't stop him.

He put away the sketch and looked at the letter he had just received.

Dear Mr. Vargas,

We are pleased to inform you that you are the eighth guest at our party. We expect you to be at Maria's Peak island at the Devon coast on September 25th, 2010. The trip will be a two night's overstay, and you will be leaving with the other guests on September 27th, 2010. This is a formal event, and you are expected to dress in a dress.

Ever sincerely,

U. N. Owen

A little part about it pissed him off. Why a dress? But his last art sale put him in a good mood. Besides, he was sure this was a one time only thing, he didn't want to make a bad impression. He would be there to relax two other days, so he could pack his usual wear.

He began packing, since there was nothing else to do. Oh well.

Somehow, he felt that this experience wouldn't end well. Oh how right he was.

* * *

**So I got tired of introducing people, so I put the rest of them in here. Alright...**

**If you're wondering about Australia's (Ozbourne) wife, and you're going "Oh, it's your New Zealand character, isn't it?", well then no. It's not New Zealand. I was all "What would happen if a volcano was all BAM and suddenly an island was RIGHT THERE, but nobody found it until 4,000 years later, just some aborigine-ish people that were on it somehow?" So I named my little island Tinari, and every time I see a map, I pretend it's there. Of course, Tinari has to have a personification, and there she is. I'm thinking of a human name, but it's sort of weird.**

**Is anyone reading this? Please review?  
**


	5. Poems, Dinner, and the Voice

Outside of the Crest Docking area stood a small group of eight people in formal wear. Introductions were held amongst them.

"Where are the other two?" Asked Wang Yao. "I've heard that they're already at the island, Wang." Answered Alfred F. Jones.

"How are they already there?" "I believe that they were somehow invited before us." said Ivan Braginski.

Eventually, the porter put their suitcases into a yacht, and they were off to the island.

When they arrived, and Arthur knocked almost angrily on the door (he wasn't happy about the dress), they were met by a small Italian's face. "Ah! Are you the guests? Ludwig and I thought we would be here alone. Though I don't think we'd be considered guests, we were hired to be butlers. Though I think I'd be a maid, I'm wearing a dress…" The Italian realized he was rambling, so he blushed and stepped aside to let them in. He showed them an attachment to the letter he was sent, and he and his husband showed them to their rooms.

Ozbourne ventured off to see the dining room once he knew where his room was. He was quite delighted to see that there was LOTS of spirits there. Ah, the wonders of alcohol, he thought. Dinner would be served at 8:00, and they would meet their hosts then. But for now, he decided to go to his room to take a short nap.

* * *

Yao had followed the Italian- Feliciano- up to his room. He was sure that it would be alright if he just stayed there for a while. He looked around the room. Blood red curtains and sheets, gold and red colored comforter, perfectly white rugs on a hardwood floor, cherry wood armoire, nightstand, desk, mantle, and then he saw the walk-in bathroom. It was nice, very bright. He decided he liked his room. He waltzed back into his room in a good mood. It was then he noticed that there was a poem in a frame, along with a heavy-looking marble bear, and a poem that read:

_Ten little Indian boys went out to dine,_

_One choked his little self, and then there were nine._

_Nine little Indian boys sat up very late,_

_One overslept himself, and then there were eight._

_Eight little Indian boys, traveling to Devon,_

_One said he'd stay there, and then there were seven._

_Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks,_

_One chopped himself in half, and then there were six._

_Six little Indian boys playing with a hive,_

_A bumble bee stung one, and then there were five._

_Five little Indian boys going into law,_

_One got into chancery, and then there were four._

_Four little Indian boys going out to sea,_

_A red herring swallowed one, and then there were three._

_Three little Indian boys walking through the zoo,_

_A big bear hugged one and then there were two._

_Two little Indian boys sitting in the sun,_

_One got all frizzled up, and then there was one._

_One little Indian boy, he was left all alone,_

_He went and hanged himself, and then there were none._

He recognized that poem. He'd seen it many times before, of course, from being a nanny. Quite the morbid children's poem, if he could voice his own opinion.

He turned away from the poem. It reminded him of his own childhood. He had heard a poem vaguely similar to it…

* * *

Ozbourne woke just as his clock chimed eight. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and ventured down the stairs, and followed the route he recognized as the path to the dining hall. Everyone was already there, and dinner was served already. If someone was not speaking to another, they were listening. He thought that this group could get along quite well, so then maybe he could too.

He sat down and conversed with the Frenchman and the German. Everyone was talking merrily, all was well. He helped himself to a spirit. What was the harm in it? Everyone else was drinking them….

The Italian was fiddling with the hem of his dress. "What's wrong, may I ask, Feliciano?" He looked surprised. "I think must have left something cooking… Oh! The Ribollita!" He rushed to get that off the stove. Oddly, he came back without it. "Why didn't you bring it back?" "Ah, I thought that we would be able to eat it for lunch tomorrow." "Good idea." The Frenchman commented. What was his name? Francis.

"Oh!" was heard from Yao. Heads turned towards his direction. "What's wrong?" asked Ivan, who, for some reason, had taken to holding his hand. "There are ten adorable little figurines on the table! Just like the poem on the mantle in my room." "The one with the ten Indian boys?" "Yes! How did you know?" "I have the same one in my room." Arthur replied. A chorus of "I do too." rang through the room. "Well, that's childish, if I could have some say in it." Replied Lovino. "Aw, lighten up!" the Spaniard, Antonio, fake-scolded him. Lovino blushed and looked away. Little known to everyone else, he and Antonio were practicing slow-dancing with each other.

* * *

After dinner was cleaned up, they all drank coffee in the parlor room, and had settled comfortably in their chairs. No host or not, (they had all expected the host to come meet them in the parlor) they all spoke in a comfortable silence, until an in-human sounding voice came in and filled the room.

_"SILENCE!"_

The guests cringed at the high, tinny voice.

"I now charge you all with the following crimes:

_Alfred F. Jones, on April 30th, 2004, broke your own rules, and murdered the innocent Matthew Williams._

_Yao Wang, on December 4th, 2006, broke your morale code, and murdered your brother Kiku Honda._

_Ivan Braginski, on January 9th, went to extremes, and killed both your older sister Yekaterina and Natalia Arlovskaya._

_Arthur Kirkland, on May 22nd, had finally snapped under stress, and murdered your younger brother, Peter Kirkland._

_Ozbourne Walker, on March 12th, you acted from jealousy, and murdered your wife Kiralia Naigos, and your newborn son._

_Francis Bonnefoy, on June 14th, love had taken the better of you, and you killed your spouse, Vash Zwingli._

_Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, on February 29th, 2008, you acted irresponsibly, and ran down three harmless people, Toris Lorinaitus, Raivis Galante, and Eduard von Bock._

_Lovino Vargas, on July 17th, you let jealousy overcome you, and heartlessly killed your grandfather._

_Ludwig Weilshmidt, on August 12th, annoyance had finally done you in, and you murdered your brother Gilbert Weilshmidt._

_Feliciano Weilshmidt, on November 3rd, out of a mistaken sympathy, you murdered Heracles Karpusi._

_Oh ones with the crimes held against them, will you say anything to the crimes being held against you?"_

_

* * *

_**Oh, dear! What now? The chapter is about 2 days late...**

**Of course, I didn't write that poem. I could never come up with something like that. I'm not sure yet exactly WHY Feliciano would kill Heracles, but I'll find out soon.**

**CHALLENGE: I find that there's a disturbing lack of FrancexSwtizerland, and TurkeyxEgypt. Someone write some of that!**

**Ok, so the challenge is sort of a request, but hey.  
**


	6. The first one down

A thick silence filled the room. Alfred spoke out.

"I never murdered my brother! It was a tragic accident, a suicide!" It was Yao who spoke next. "I would never do such a thing to my own brother! My poor Kiku…" Ivan looked quite disturbed, very dissimilar to his usual odd grin. "The deaths of my dear Yekaterina and Natalia were not at my hands." Arthur looked angry. "I… Peter was a nuisance at times, I will say that. The boy was alright at times, and was a nice young boy. But to kill him for such a foolish reason? Never!" Ozbourne look as if he were going to cry, but also very angry. "Never would I kill someone that dear to me!" Francis was quite pale. "Vash… Vash… my dearest… Vash had hung himself… And I thought we were so happy together…" Antonio looked almost embarrassed. "I've never run people down! Ever! Especially not deliberately." Lovino was livid. "Killed my grandfather? I loved the old man! It was age he died of." Ludwig had a strange expression on his face. "To kill my own brother… would to be killing part of my own soul." Feliciano broke down and wept. "Heracles! He had died of illness! I never-"

He fainted. Ludwig, now looking worried, carried him to the couch.

Ozbourne looked around, trying to search for the source of the Voice. "What kind of a practical joke is this?" "Whoever that was… I swear! To accuse people of murder! There were too many accusations for that to have been possible!" Antonio fumed. It seemed that Alfred was unfazed. "Well, are you now admitting to the crimes?" Arthur inquired. "I've been through these things before. Antonio's right. Too many accusations."

Francis seemed thoroughly disturbed. "The voice… Vash's sister…" He looked very pale, but did not faint.

Lovino looked around. His eyes landed on an open window he had not noticed. He walked over to the window and looked around and outside of it. That didn't seem to be it. He turned and then saw a door. Hmm. That must be it. Lovino walked over to the door and opened it. Everyone jumped as the rusty hinges squeaked.

It seemed to have been a storage closet. Inside was an old gramophone, and on it was a record. Lovino was curious. He set the needle back, and it began to play again.

"SILENCE! I now charge you all with the following crimes." "TURN IT OFF!" Everyone outside shouted. He took the needle off the track.

The next question asked by Arthur was "Well, if that was there, then who turned it on? Who played it? Who recorded it." "No one knew there was a storage closet there, or maybe the 'butler' knew. Heads turned towards Ludwig. He kept a stoic face, and answered "I only came here today. I know as much about this place as you do."

Feliciano was back up, and Arthur gave him the old remedy of brandy. "Ah, thank you. That judgment upset me a little." "Judgement, eh?" Feliciano was right back at his husband's side.

"I demand to know who put that record on!" Antonio commanded. Everyone kept mum. Alfred sighed and left the room. He came back with a bottle of vodka and some shot-glasses. "Why don't we all have a drink and settle down? It was probably some practical joke made by Mr. Owen, and nothing else." "Owen!" Ozbourne bellowed. "Mr. Owen, or whoever he is! Why doesn't he show up already!" Alfred put the bottle and glasses down, then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Settle down and have a shot." Everyone had their own shot. Some rubbed at their lips, trying to get the feeling back in them. Only Ivan was ok. "Russian water, da?" He answered the questions. Though, while no one was looking, (or so he thought) Yao could have sworn he rubbed at his lips a little.

Everyone, now feeling better, and slightly drunk, talked more calmly now, some feeling sleepy. Antonio grinned at Lovino. Lovino shyly smiled back. "Well, here's to the rest of our stay here!" They all clinked glasses, and drank it all in one go.

Maybe he drank too fast, is what they thought when Antonio started to cough a little. But soon, they realized that that wasn't the case when he grabbed at his throat.

Antonio turned pale, then a light shade of blue, and dropped to the floor, dead.

* * *

**ANTONIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! **

**Who else screamed when they saw the Nordics in the anime? Iceland... he is so... MANRY! Sexy, though. Very sexy ...**

**What are you going to be for Halloween? I'm going to be Alice. (Alice in Wonderfrikkinland)  
**


	7. The second one is struck

It was so sudden. Nobody expected it. Francis jumped up and took Antonio's wrist and checked for pulse.

"It's no use. He's gone." Lovino slid to the ground and sobbed. Nobody moved a muscle. One of them, dead? Horror passed over everyone. "So maybe… it wasn't a practical joke." Alfred mumbled. Something was wrong now. Defiantly wrong. Somebody was out to get them. U.N. Owen was some serious business.

"Dead? But how?" Lovino choked. Francis checked over him and turned to them. "Poisoned. Cyanide. Potassium Cyanide." The room was silent except for Lovino's sobs.

"H-how did it get into his cup?" Yao finally asked. "It's possible he did it on purpose. Suicide, maybe." Lovino couldn't make sound anymore. It hurt.

Francis checked the vodka and the other cups. Nothing there. He searched Alfred and the floors and Antonio's pockets. Nothing. So then, how did it get to him?

* * *

Eventually, they decided to just take Antonio's body to the dining room. When Yao peered inside, he screamed. "What's wrong?" Ivan said, holding him up. "I swear! 10 of them… but… 9!" "I don't understand." "What is this? There are only 9 little Indian figurines now! Somebody took the 10th!" And so it was. When Antonio died, there were now only 9.

Ivan lead Yao up to his room and returned to his. Quite bothersome, he thought. Someone was out to get them. It made him remember his sisters. Yes, that's it. Fond memories. He'll be able to escape the island alive, and nobody could get him. He took out his pistol in his drawer. No, he thought. He put it back. He'd be ready for the next attack. He definitely would be.

* * *

Alfred sat in his room and thought about his brother. A nice boy, he was. Cute, but not noticed very often. It saddened both him and his brother, and sometimes made him angry. He remembered the way he pushed his glasses up his nose, the stuffed polar bear he would carry around, his love for hockey. Hockey. He was never good at it…

* * *

Ludwig looked at his sleeping 'wife'. Their doctor gave him a bottle of sedatives for his recent inability to sleep. Worrying too much, that's what it is. He bookmarked the page he was on. For a while, he just stared at his face. Mediterranean, you could tell. Warm skin, caramel eyes, red hair, beautiful to sum it all up. He reached over and turned the light off. He'd see him more in the morning.

* * *

Francis lay awake. He just couldn't sleep. He had another bottle of sedatives, he was sure. He just didn't want to take them. Instead, he thought of Vash. He was Swiss. And he was blonde with green eyes. He remembered the day he first managed to get him to go on a date with him. Ah, so young and carefree back then. But Vash, to suddenly be so unhappy. Out to get groceries was what he was told. What was really happening was he was out on a date with some aristocrat. The man had stolen him away. He found out and was heartbroken. Francis began to pack his things, and then Vash got home. "I-I didn't mean it! It wasn't supposed to be like that! We met in the store by chance, and we talked about college! He just- I mean- I wouldn't have kissed him! HE kissed ME!"

Francis cried himself to sleep that night.

* * *

Ludwig startled Francis awake that morning. At 7:00 AM, he ran to his room. "Francis! Francis!" "Calm down and tell me what's the matter!" "Feli! I can't get him to wake up! He seems so pale, too." The normally stoic man was in a frenzy. Francis went straight to their room. Indeed, the little Italian did look pale. His pulse was gone, and he was limp. To Ludwig's horror, he picked him up and handed him to him. "I'm afraid he's gone. Overdosed on sedatives." Ludwig dropped to the floor and cradled Feliciano. It was hours before he could let him go to put him in the dining room.

In the dining room, on the table, were now only 8 figurines.

* * *

**FELICIANOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

**Short chapter, just wanted to get out our little Italian's death out as quickly as possible. **

**So, do you think I'm not giving a character enough attention? Please tell me.  
**


	8. The third is done

Arthur and Alfred were getting very suspicious. "You're a police officer. I'm sure you wouldn't do anything like this, right?" Alfred looked away and didn't respond. "I know it's not me, I don't think it's you. Right?" This time, he responded. "I hope that'll be it for the death." But that didn't answer Arthur's question.

Everyone ate breakfast in the kitchen. The air was tense. Nobody talked. In everyone's heads, things like "Francis poisoned him. No doubt." or "This host person… he must be one of us. One of us that's murdering everyone."

The topic of Feliciano's death was not discussed, nor was Antonio's. Conversation was of current events. Politics and such.

Breakfast was cleared up, and the people left went outside. But Lovino, he wandered straight to the dining room. He went inside just to take Antonio's hand…

* * *

Yao and Arthur discussed their occupations. "I work as a housemaid." "I work as a nanny." They didn't get very far, just little details, past experiences.

Yao then struck up a conversation with Ozbourne. He went as far to ask "What was your wife like?" Ozbourne paused. "She was… beautiful. Her hair was a nice color of gold, and it was probably as long as yours. Her eyes were also gold, and they sparkled in the faintest light. She was tall, curvy, tanned, her nose was small, but stuck out in a way. Had a nice manner, but could get a little harsh at times. I loved her so much, everything about her, the way she would call 'Oz!' when I came home, the way she seemed to dance when she moved, but then she…" He trailed off. "You don't have to say anymore."

* * *

Ivan and Lovino had made a long search over the island. They couldn't find 'Owen', or anyone else suspicious. Then, who had killed Antonio and Feliciano?

"I bet it was that doctor, Francis! It's always the doctors with the medical supplies. Besides, who else could have gotten cyanide and powerful sleep aids?" "I'm not so sure. You can't be entirely assured that it was Francis, besides, he was across the room from Antonio, and the bottle of sleep-aids weren't given to him, they were given from prescription, da?"

Lovino seemed angry, but he did not argue with Ivan. He was right. How could it be Francis? He was still suspicious about him though. It was a feeling that he couldn't shake.

* * *

Ozbourne and Yao stood out talking about past love and such for a while, just staring out at the sea towards the mainland. "Do you think we could swim there?" Suddenly, it didn't seem that Ozbourne heard him, or even knew he was there. "Kiki…"

Ozbourne snapped out of his daze and told Yao he'd be there for a while later, and he would come inside. "I just need to think."

That day, Ludwig moved out of the room that he had shared with Feliciano, and took another room, not too far away, though. Once he was done, he snuck into the dining room, and stared at his love, still as beautiful in death as he was in life, sneaking off to make lunch when he was done. Nobody expected a thing.

* * *

When lunch was served, everyone sat down. Yao was a little late. "So sorry to make you wait!" "You're not the last one to the table. Where's Ozbourne?" Alfred questioned.

"I'll look for him." Ivan offered. "I'll go with you. I'll take you to where he was." Yao told him.

When they did not return for several minutes, they began to eat lunch. Suddenly, the two absent burst into the door. "DEAD! He-he's dead!" They both exploded. Seven people threw glances around the room. Another one was gone. As if on instinct, Yao and Ludwig went for the dining room.

They both ignored the two dead bodies and went straight for the dining room table. Lovino rushed inside as well. "Another is gone!" Yao said, astonished. "That's just creepy as hell." Lovino commented. Ludwig stayed silent.

* * *

**OZBOUUUUUURNE!**

**I was told that I don't give Alfred and Arthur enough love. Is that so? I guess the next chapter might have something important, or maybe just a larger scene with them. I also might make something like in the movie happen. In the movie, Phillip Lombard and Vera Claythorne fall in love and escape the island together and run away. Russia's character match-up is Lombard, and China's character match-up is Vera, so I might make them fall in love. But as much as I love them both, I can tell you that they're not surviving. **

**The reason why the scene switches so much is that I'm trying to give certain characters a fair share of attention. Review and tell me which characters you want more of and if I should pair Russia and China (yes or no, not your entire take on the pairing ^_^')!  
**


	9. The fourth is taken down

Ludwig was shaken by the death that had occurred on the island… the blackness that had drowned his wife. He had a foreboding sense that something was about to happen. He had a feeling that the ominous tension would not stop until the fog of death had engulfed everybody on the island. He sat to think. Sure, he felt like there was something wrong. Sure, maybe someone else felt like this. But he had the hope that he was wrong. The 'judgment' would pass, and it would all be over and they could all go home.

Yet, he wasn't sure that he could ever go home without his dear Feliciano. The large rustic house would seem dreary and alone, quite empty, without the seemingly-always giddy Italian. The mere thought of it depressed him. The reality would surely do him worse, sending him so far into the pit of despair that he would certainly die of a broken heart.

Ludwig broke his train of thought. Even so, he was sure he would have wanted him to move on. His spirit would forever be in the wall of the house with him when he got back. He must do his best to survive.

Survival. He felt the familiar click of his brain telling him that there was work to be done. He smoothed his hair back, and remembered that there was little firewood left. It was about 6:00 PM. Dinner. He also had to make dinner.

Automatically, he went outside to fetch the axe. He went straight from there to the relatively small gathering of maple trees, humming the tune his Italian lover would hum during long days of work.

* * *

Yao went to his room and lay on the bed. Was Ozbourne really dead? They hadn't seen his body. He surely was, because his shirt was torn and laying on the ground. It was snagged on a rock. Most likely that the high tide had gotten to the point where he was sitting, and swallowed him up. He had heard from Arthur that the current seemed to be getting stronger.

Yao sighed. He thought of a line on the spot. "And his body was never seen again." If anyone had been passing, they'd have taken him for a crazed murderer, called him Owen, and hanged him for killing Antonio, Feliciano, and Osbourne. He shivered, remembering that there was probably some creepy person watching him right this second.

Just thinking about it scared him. He felt a chill run up his spine, shaking him. He bolted up and out the door, and ran until he found someone to hang around. "What's wrong?" Alfred asked, visibly worried.

"Safety in numbers." Yao said, still quite shaken. "Ah, paranoid, are we?" He chuckled. "It's just a series of freak accidents." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Yao. They both laughed as if sharing an inside joke. His own laughter sounded strange and foreign to him. When they were off the subject, they were able to talk with each other quite comfortably. "Do you have any siblings?" He asked Alfred. "Yes, one. Oh, he was… Matthew. For some reason, it's just hard for me to remember his name. Do you have any siblings?" "I have 2 brothers, Kiku and Tso-Xing, and a sister, Yingmei." "Really? How old are they?" "Kiku is 24, Tso-Xing is 17, and Meimei is 15." "Kiku's an adult, huh?" "Yes, he ran off to marry a Greek man by the name of Heracles. I can't say I wasn't skeptical about him, but eventually I came to trust him. I was still sad that my brother had grown up." "I know the feeling. Mattie had married a self proclaimed 'Prussian'. I don't know where he got it from, the country's been dead since 1947."

Alfred told Yao the long romantic story of how his brother had met Gilbert the Prussian, and how they fell in love. "The way he asked Matthew to marry him was something that a girl could only dream of. We were shocked by this, we didn't even know they were dating." "How did he ask?" Yao felt like a gossiping old lady. The other nannies had rubbed off on him. "He took Matthew to a nice park, climbed up on the gazebo, took Mattie with him, and proposed with a really long speech. Since it was around Christmas time, he had them light up the tree the moment he said yes." Yao sighed at the thought. He wished he could propose or be proposed to like that.

"Romantic, isn't it?" Alfred snapped Yao out of his fantasy land. "I wish someone would do that for me, or at least I could do that for someone." "Who would that someone be?" "I don't know. I can only imagine a dark figure in place of love." "Don't you wish you can ever find someone to hold you like that?" Yao nodded in silent agreement. He wished his destined love wasn't so vauge, even if he imagined it. Just as he opened his eyes, he caught sight of a clock. "Oh! 8:00 already! How come Ludwig hasn't called dinner yet?" "He seems like the kind of person to not let this kind of thing slip by."

The main room already had Arthur and Ivan in it, quietly discussing types of tea. Lovino and Francis both seemed to be dozing off. "Where's Ludwig?" Alfred asked, a bit too lud for the setting. "He's probably making dinner about now." Came Arthur's annoyed response. "I'll check on the bastard. Probably feel asleep chopping wood."

Lovino left the room, and headed for the small bit of woods. He looked around. There was no one around. He felt a slight chill and dismissed it. There was an axe, just sitting there, nothing really. With the axe was a small patch of dirt, probably where the wood was chopped. He heard the front door open and shut. Ah. So Ludwig was back wasn't he. He was about to head back, when he stumbled over something strangely human. He looked down and saw Ludwig's horribly mutilated figure.

**I missed you guys. Who missed me? *silence***

**Wow. I mean, wow. I didn't know I would get a pile of schoolwork like that. I did fairly well on a lot of things, yet I'm STILL failing math, and have 3 c's. That sucks big time, especially when you're trying your hardest NOT to fail! I even spent countless nights studying... I guess that's what did me in. I was probably really tired in you ever been disappointed with your grades like that? It's kinda hard to deal with the feeling of failing my year and having to start all over...**

**So I went back to fanfiction. I haven't updated since the beginning of October. That's just too long. I hope you didn't get impatient with me! (You probably did, that's okay.)**

**Enjoy then review! EDIT: ACK! I did it in the wrong order! Mr. Rogers, not Blore died next... Craptastic job, I really am tired.  
**


	10. A bumblebee sting to the fifth

Arthur kept to himself. He would spend hours just staring out the window, muttering old Gaelic sayings and poems to himself. He was, in their eyes, the definition of depression and mistrust. It was understandable, though. If he stayed to himself, he thought, there would be no one around to kill him. It was the same for all those who had died. When Antonio died, there were people there (but there was no definite suspect). When Feliciano died, his husband was there (although there was barely any suspicion that Ludwig did it). When Ozbourne died, Yao and Ivan were out looking for him (but were they the ones to push him into the sea, or did they find him dead?). When Ludwig died, Lovino was looking for him (again, did he find him dead, or did he kill him himself?). Who was next? Certainly couldn't be him. Not possible!

When lunch was served, Arthur decided to take his plate and scurry off to his room. No one followed. It was silently decided that it was best to leave him alone. None of them wanted Arthur to feel they were the murderer. And it was likely that he would convince someone else that it was he that killed the 4 others. The remaining six did not talk often. If Arthur were to talk… well he didn't. He used gestures.

Lovino, however, was beginning to get suspicious about Arthur. If he were left alone that long, obviously he'd have time to devise plans! But Arthur wasn't the only one he was suspicious of. He knew that Ivan had a gun. While passing his door late one night, he saw him polishing it. He froze in fear. Ivan held his gun out to the light, in the open. He had half a mind to run in there and grab it himself. Maybe even shoot him. But that would be stooping down to the Murderer's level. He couldn't risk it. If Ivan was the one killing them, then he would need some solid evidence. None of them had died of a gunshot wound. Not yet, at least.

Arthur had been left in the kitchen. It was alright with him, as long as he was alone. Yet still, Alfred was a little unsettled about this. Francis assured him nothing could happen, although it seemed as if he was trying to convince himself of this rather than Alfred. "It sounds like something's wrong with you." "Just a little unsettled is all-" "Unsettled why?" He interrupted the Frenchman. "I seem to have misplaced my bag-" "YOU WHAT?" The American interrupted again. "The Murderer could have it! What do you expect to happen when you casually 'misplace your bag'?" "I can assure you that I have nothing deadly in there! You have to be very creative to figure out how to kill someone with what's in there." Alfred let out a breath. "I'm going to check on Arthur, then." "Well then I'll go with you." Francis said.

When they got to the kitchen, it seemed like Arthur was asleep. "Fell asleep in his chair, huh." Alfred tried to wake him up, but to no avail. Francis let out a gasp. On the kitchen counter was a syringe. On further inspection, potassium cyanide. Inspection of Arthur: there was a small stab point in his neck. A syringe stab, to be exact. "What would you be doing with cyanide in your bags?" Alfred said. He should have known it. It was the doctor all along. "I don't keep cyanide with me! It serves no medical purpose." It was decided that it was best to tell the other three. His body was then moved to the dining room. On the dining room table, were now only 5 figurines.

"Six little Indian boys, playing with a hive, a bumblebee stung one, and then there were five." Yao breathed.

* * *

**I LOVE YOU GUYS. Reviews, on almost every story, no less! Seriously. You make my day. **

**But still, why can't I upload a longer chapter faster?  
**


	11. The fifth has gone

Alfred had been wary since Arthur had died. He was alone most of the time, and never in a room with just one person! So, he concluded, it's either two people working together, or not one of them at all. There were few things certain in his mind. 1) He was Alfred F. Jones, he was once a star cop. 2) He was probably never getting off Maria's Peak Island. 3) He was alive for the time being. 4) He wasn't U.N. Owen.

The certainty of those four things is what he clung to, what kept his sanity. But maybe his sanity wasn't meant to last. Maybe his sense was dulled, but he sure thought it was sharpened. He could always hear footsteps behind him since Ludwig had died. Always, they creeped slowly towards him…_ one step, two… one step, two… one, two… one, two_. He tried going faster. The footsteps seemed to follow his pace. _One, two- one, two- one, two_. Even faster._ One, two, **three**_. Whenever he heard the third step, he whirled around, just to see nothing.

One day, the third step had also morphed into a fourth. _One, two, three,_ **FOUR**. The voice in his head had long since counted the steps for him. Was it really in his head? Was he sure? Maybe it was him muttering under his breath. But it couldn't be, no. It was dear, sweet Feliciano that counted for him.

He wasn't sure the last time he looked at himself. He finally decided one day that maybe it was okay to take a shower. It was relaxing. But still, Feliciano counted. Who was pacing in the bathroom? Was it the Killer, or merely someone who had needed something and decided to borrow it from him? "_Why would they?_" Feliciano asked. "_I'm so sure that every bathroom in the mansion was stocked. I made sure of it myself. They could go into an unused one._" "I guess so…" His voice sounded distant. Was that him talking? Was HE talking? He thought about it. Soon, the water ran cold. A refreshing jolt went up his spine. Feliciano's counting voice faded. Maybe all he needed was a splash of cold water.

He got out and looked at himself. His skin lost its slight tan. Instead, he was pale. His hair no longer shone gold, and a little bit of gray showed. His eyes seemed sunken, and his glasses were huge on his face. Ah, he thought. Maybe I should get something to eat, that'll help. It sure did seem like he'd lost weight over the days.

When he deemed it safe, he walked down to the kitchen. Feliciano did not count, nor did It follow him. He made himself a sandwich, it was all he could think of to make. Strange, nobody seemed to be around. Why? Maybe they were all sleeping. Was it dark outside? He had lost track of time. Maybe it had been years? Maybe he spent 30 seconds making his sandwich. Or did he spend 30 hours? He ate in silence, and felt some strength return to him. Oh, that was it. He was hungry. He got himself a shot of brandy and felt color rush to his cheeks. All he needed was that. He felt a lot better. And now, the fifth was almost certain. He had been going insane.

He walked down the halls, thinking he had nothing to fear. When he looked at the watch on his wrist, he saw it was 3 A.M. Maybe it was why nobody was out. He looked in the room he was certain was Yao's. There lay Yao, sleeping peacefully, his slow breathing calming to him. His hair was down and splayed across the pillows. The days had been kind to him. His face remained its slight tan color, and he had no circles under his eyes. His hair was a perfect black, and his thick eyelashes fluttered in his sleep. He seemed as if he were an angel. Alfred stood up from the place he had taken at Yao's bedside. It was calming to see that someone had taken the days on Maria's Peak better than he had. Maybe he would make it out. Maybe Yao would too. He walked down a little more, and then looked into another room. This time, it was Lovino's. He looked and admired the room. A purplish shade of wine colored curtains, carpet, and duvet, with a dark maroon as an accent color. The wood was a dark cherry. There, on the gray marble mantle place was the poem. He didn't bother to read it.

Lovino seemed to be humming in his sleep. He recognized it as the Italian folk song Bella Bimba. It was once a favorite. He realized that he was tired himself. He climbed the stairs to the 4th floor, where his room was located. He admired the many forest-y shades of green, and the brown accent color. He lay on his bed, and slowly drifted off. An hour later, he was woken by the sound of his watch beeping. It was a familiar sound, and it was also comforting. 4:25 AM, it read. That was the time he would get up and go to work. Sometimes, it was when he got home from work. He decided to get up and explore some more of the house. Did he dare go in to the parlor? He did. Looking around, he remembered the spot where Antonio had collapsed and died. He heard Feliciano's laughing. "_That's the spot where he died, Alfred. But was it you that did it?_" The once sweet voice was now torture to hear. "_Alfred, Alfred, come play Alfred!_" "**Gaaaahhh!**" He yelled at the voice. "**I can't play with you, YOU'RE DEAD!**" The sense of calm he'd had was shattered. "_Alfred, come here, sit down, why don't you have a cup of tea with me?_" came a posh British accent. "**YOU'RE DEAD TOO, ARTHUR!**" "_But that wasn't nice. Say, come try some paella._" Came a jovial Spanish accent. "**YOU CAN'T, ANTONIO. YOU'RE DEAD TOO!**" Then came Ludwig's gruff laughter. "_Calm down, stay for a while._" "**YOU'RE DEAD, LUDWIG!**" He turned to run. There was no door. Only the dining room door, slightly ajar. The stench of death wafted out. Alfred fell to the ground.

* * *

Hours later, Yao woke to the sound of yelling. Was it Alfred? He had had a dream that he stopped by his bedside, and muttering about how beautiful and peaceful he had seemed in sleep. Was that really him? Was it not a dream? Maybe it was someone else. Whatever or whoever it was, it or they caused no harm to him. Or at least from what he saw. He got up, and ventured down the hall. He reached the kitchen. Soon after he had walked in, Lovino was also there. Yao jumped. Seeing Lovino meant no harm, he turned and said "Ah. Good timing." Lovino merely nodded. They stood and chatted calmly over coffee.

Ivan woke and came into the room. He informed the others that Francis was probably going to check up on them to make sure the stress they had been over hadn't affected their health. "Stress has been taking a toll on Alfred, da? I hope he is well when we get off the island." Yao merely nodded.

Francis had performed a checkup, and all was well. They went searching for Alfred. Yao noticed that the parlor door was open. He and Francis looked inside to see Alfred's dead body. It looked like his corpse was sitting on a chair, in front of a makeshift judge's table, complete with the judge'shammer.

* * *

**AH HA HA... Ha. Ha. Guys, I'm sorry. I haven't updated in over a month. Actually, I feel the need to write a crack fanfiction instead of something suspense-y. And also, I looked over the entire thing, and the chapters were really short. I guess that's all I'm capable of, because they seemed long enough when I typed them. They're even longer when you look at them on the DSi. It's probably my bad old lady vision. I keep the font on 20. Ha...**

**Also, I think that when I said that they (Yao, Romano, Arthur...) were supposed to wear dresses, it seemed pretty stupid, huh? Well, I actually have a reason for it, it's going to be revealed in the last chapter, which is the letter from U.N. Owen.**

**Also, may I request (before you start) that you review on the most recent chapter? I once had another chapter story on a different accout, the one that got up to either 38 or 43. People would review on chapter 5 when I was on chapter 29, or they would review EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER with like... 2 words. not that I mind 2 word reviews, as long as you say something. It's okay to say "That's cool." or something. At least "hate it" would be nice.  
**


	12. The fourth kills himself

The room was dead silent. They stared at Alfred and thought of moving him to the dining room. It was only the sensible thing to do, it's what they'd been doing for everyone else, so why not do the same for him? The farthest they would get to his body was a few steps, but something… someone told them to step back. One by one, they left the room, leaving Alfred's body to rot. Nobody really talked then. Finally, Francis decided that there should be no hesitation in moving Alfred's body, and they should take him to the dining room being used as the morgue. The door creaked open slowly. Yao poked his little dark head in to see… an empty room. Gone. Alfred's body was gone…

He let out a small chuckle. Of course this would happen, they WERE dealing with a serial killer anyways. His mind wandered to Ozbourne. He was missing, which means he COULD be dead or alive, couldn't he? He scanned the shore with glazed eyes. Oh, no, he couldn't have. That's his dead body on the shore, isn't it? It is…

Yao snapped out of his trance. Before he could say anything, Ivan was outside, and checking to see if he was dead. Yao simply turned away. He couldn't bear seeing Ivan drag his dead body through the doorway and into the dining room. "Four." He said as he passed him. "Da." Ivan responded. "Four left, and four figurines."

Suddenly, Lovino burst into the door and ran outside, jumping into the sea. "THIS IS IT, ALFRED! I'VE HAD IT!" He screamed. Six hours later, when his body washed ashore, Yao took it upon himself to take his body to the dining room. "Sleep well little one."

* * *

**Terribly short, just getting to the murder. So I've finally gotten myself a new laptop. Hopefully, it won't break like my old one. And according to DocumentManager, it's been nearly 2 months exactly since I've updated. I'll have more time (and energy) to update tomorrow, so I promise that I'll just make one huge chapter and the story's going to be over, okay? And then it's back to writing oneshots for me. (Because I suck at keeping up with updates. Chapter stories just seem to be such a hassle for me...)**


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